Job Depression

At the age of 17 or so, society expects us to decide what we want to do for the next fifty years of our lives. We take dozens of tests, break our necks in school to pass classes, get into college, and start the next phase in our lives. 

And then we graduate. We break our necks AGAIN to pass more exams and finish college. And we are expected to continue on a solid path toward SOME kind of career. Something that will make us some money, but not a job that is so lofty that we’ll never make it. 

So we apply for jobs BEFORE graduation. And, if a month has gone by after the end of our college career and we don’t have a job, we’re attacked. Questioned. Pressured. “How’s the job search?” “What do you want to do?” “What was your degree in, again?” 

And here I am. Fresh out of college with a shiny new Bachelor’s degree and a diploma sitting on my bookshelf. And it’s been a single month since the end of my final semester. And I’m still working part time retail and about to move back in with my parents. And I’m depressed.

Now, I’ve had depression since I was about 14 – I’ve been in and out of therapy since then and I’ve been on anti-depressants for two years. So I’m stable. And I’m generally happy. But the last two weeks or so have gotten to me. I’m depressed, I can’t lose the small amount of weight that I gained over the holidays (oh, Christmas cookies our love/hate relationship is hard), and I’m lonely. I’m isolated in my current living situation and I’m not wanted in it either. 

But recently I’ve also had a lot of extra time to think and read and write. And I’m learning to try and accept. I accept where I am right now. I accept where I’m going in the near future. And I’m trying to accept that not everyone is as genuine as I am. Not everyone is as free-spirited. Some people plan. Some people have goals and actions they know they have to take. But I’m accepting that I am not that person. I am a bit of a floater. I don’t really know what I want to do for the next forty years or so. I really don’t. I have ideas, but I don’t have real ideas.

And I’m beginning to accept that.